


happiness tidal

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 22:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Steve Harrington AU in which the reader tries to be smooth (aka some light breaking and entering, a swimming pool, and flying bikini tops)





	happiness tidal

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ harringtown :)

“If we get arrested, I’m telling the cops you forced me in here,” you hissed as you followed Steve through the dark to the pool’s gate. The pool had closed down for the fall weeks ago, for good measure as the weather cooled, but Steve insisted it was the best time of year to go. Even if it meant some minor breaking and entering.

“You stabbed our old flayed math teacher in the head a month ago,” he said, hoisting himself up to where the pool’s gate met brick, “and this makes you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” you said as Steve climbed over the top of the gate and dropped to the ground opposite you, “I just don’t know if sneaking into a freezing pool is worth it.”

“It’ll be worth it.” Steve grinned and reached over to pop the door open, stepping back and dipping into a teasing bow, waving you in with a hand. You curtsied as you passed him and the door swung shut behind you.

You entered the pool deck, waiting as Steve ducked behind the lifeguard station. When he popped up, blue lights had awoken in the pool, shining through the water. In the dark, empty night, it was a place outside of time.

“You know you have a pool at your house,” you said.

“Not as fun!” Steve called as he strode past you, tugging his shirt over his head. The muscles contracted in his back with the movement, and you were grateful the dark and his turned frame prevented him from seeing your blush. He tossed the shirt onto a chair and kicked his sneakers off, shrugging his pants off until only boxers remained. He shot you a wicked grin over his shoulder before he ran, leaping off the pool deck and into the water.

The water ballooned, opening and sending water in all directions as he sunk. You ran after him, stripping to your bra and underwear before diving in. The water was cold, though not as bad as you’d expected. You burst through the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. Steve raked a hand through his wet hair, making it stick up at all angles.

He was in need of a haircut, strands just a little too long, and you shoved down the urge to wade across to him and tangle your fingers in the locks. You dunked your head beneath the cold water once more to shake the thought out. It was hard to enjoy a night of simple breaking and entering with your friend when all you could think about was touching him. Him, moonlight reflected off the water washing his skin in light, and him, lips spread wide in a smile, and him, somehow managing to remain whole and good after so much pain and breaking. 

Steve had moved to stand against the wall, head tipped back onto the deck with his eyes on the stars overhead. You swam next to him, stomach pressed to the wall, forearms leaning onto the dry concrete. The water lapped at your back and you sunk deeper into the pool, letting the cool water wash over your shoulders.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Better than your pool.”

“Told you.”

“We’ve had quite a few good nights in that pool-” you stopped, an image of Barbara flashing behind your eyes. Though no one had proof, save the approximations from Jonathan’s photos, the belief was that Barb had been dragged into the pool and under. As far as you knew, Steve hadn’t stepped foot on his pool deck since.

“It’s weird, you know,” you said, “I spent my whole life desperate to get out of this town. And then everything happened, and the thought of leaving…the thought of moving on…leaving this place after we fought so hard for it…the thought of getting to do all the things they won’t ever get to do-” you stopped, the survivors guilt building like a bubble in your throat, choking you.

Steve lifted his head, and though you didn’t meet his gaze you felt his eyes on you.

“Doesn’t feel fair.”

“It _isn’t_ fair.”

“Yeah, well, nothing we’ve been through has been fair.”

“It’s bullshit.”

“Total bullshit,” he agreed.

You turned to look at him. In the month since the chaos had reigned at the mall his injuries had healed, nothing left but small scars on his face only visible up close. But despite the marks and the bumped bridge of his nose from countless breaks and the hair a little too long, he was still beautiful, still lit up the sky with his smile. The Mind Flayer may have taken everything else, but it didn’t take that.

_Friends. You’re friends_.

Steve moved to stand in front of you, fingers splayed across the water, fingers drumming against the pool. He drew his hands back and forth in between you, making tiny waves.

“You know what I’m gonna miss more than anything if I ever do make it out of here?”

“What’s that?”

“That sailor outfit,” you said. He scoffed in disapproval, hands stilling.

“The Boy Scout uniform, you mean?”

“Mhmm. I mean, besides the hat. Hides your best feature.”

“That’s what I said.”

Somehow, you’d managed to drift together, separated by inches of air and water. Your pulse leaped at the realization, and you didn’t think your heart - or brain, for that matter - could keep up if it went any further.

Not that you were going to stop it.

Time stilled, the world tunneling until only you and Steve remained, a small circle of water surrounded by emptiness. Your gaze flicked to his mouth and back up to his eyes, plump pink lips and a gaze more vulnerable than you’d seen from Steve before.

A chunk of wet hair was plastered to his forehead and you reached out to push it back, fingers grazing his scalp. His lips parted, eyes flashing wild.

Screw being friends. You’d almost died too many times to care about the trivialities of _will h_e or _won’t he._ You didn’t even care about the potential of rejection. From the way his gaze held yours, you doubted that was coming, anyway.

Steve shifted closer, closer, closer until you could smell the chlorine in his hair. And then he was kissing you. Kissing you like you were air and he was suffocating, every touch sending shivers down your spine. You twined your fingers in his wet hair, tugging him closer. His hands settled on your waist and he pushed you gently back, pinning you between him and the wall. You took his bottom lip between yours, catching water on your tongue. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and gripped you tighter.

It was like being taken apart with every jab of the chin and flick of a tongue.

You’d have been content to kiss him forever, but unfortunately, your lungs had other ideas. But it wasn’t just you who’d forgotten to breathe. Steve pulled back and you both caught your breath, grinning like idiots.

Your heart pounded like a kick drum, so loud you were shocked the whole block couldn’t hear it.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” Steve said with that cocky grin of his, the one that used to make you want to punch him, the one that now made your stomach flop pleasantly.

“Never thought I’d get to see Steve Harrington’s make-out spot. I feel so special,” you teased, “though I was expecting a car and a hill.”

“I don’t have a make-out spot!”

“Hopefully they sanitize this pool-” Steve cut you off, snaking an arm out and tugging you against him. Hands planted on his chest, you arched your brows at him.

I think that’s enough talking,” he said, bending back in for a kiss. But you stayed just out of reach. You trailed your hands up his chest and wound them around his neck, cocking your head, lips curling up in a sly grin.

“Wanna hear a secret?” You asked.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Rightfully so.

You bent towards him, lips grazing his ear and making him stiffen.

“Dustin told me about the Farrah Fawcett hairspray,” you murmured. Steve took you by the shoulders and pulled back to look at you, a mix of shock and frustration on his face. He dropped his hands, shaking his head, effectively distracted. It was more adorable than funny, the frustrated mumbles spilling from his lips. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“God, that kid’s ass is grass. I’m gonna kill him. I’m actually gonna kill him,” he said. Though your heart was still pounding a mile a minute, the revelation diverted his attention.

But you’d waited a long time to kiss Steve Harrington, and not even he himself could ruin it. Not now.

You sent a silent prayer there weren’t any security cameras and reached back to unclasp your swimsuit top, slowly tugging it off. You tossed it in his direction, aiming for the concrete deck behind him, only to underestimate the weight. The top landed on Steve’s head and he flinched, a hand snatching the fabric away.

“Fuck-god-I saw that in a movie, and it was _supposed_ to land _behind_-”

Steve stared at you with amusement for a long moment before he was laughing, uncontrollably, like a child. Giggles rose in your own chest and though with anyone else you’d have been blushing scarlet, all you could do was laugh.

Steve closed the distance between you again, hands cupping your cheeks.

“Feel free to throw the bottoms at me, too,” he teased, and you giggled. It was hard to kiss him with both your never-ending laughter, but damned if you didn’t try.


End file.
